


Change in plans

by stjarna



Series: Writing Prompts / Drabbles / Requests [25]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Meet Cute AU, Tumblr Prompt, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 12:03:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11104203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: Prompt: Fitzsimmons meet later in life. Perhaps a meet cute at a divorce attorney. Maybe to throw in some drama, an emotional affair. Happy ending.Taking some liberties with the prompt, since I didn’t feel quite comfortable to fill it to a T.





	Change in plans

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t do any research regarding legal divorce procedures, so don’t look for accuracy here ;)

She takes a sip of her tea before glancing once again at her watch, scoffing impatiently. Her client isn’t _late_. Neither are the members of the other party. It’s still twenty minutes until the judge will see them (if _he_ was even on time). But Jemma Anne Simmons never is late for anything. Jemma Anne Simmons is early. _Always_. By at least fifteen minutes.

_You were born a day after your due date. And now you’re trying to make up for your tardiness for the rest of your life?_ her father sometimes teases her.

She knows it isn’t the others’ fault. She knows they aren’t late. They still have plenty of time to arrive in a timely fashion. But, becoming increasingly nervous as the seconds tick by is a habit she’d likely never be able to shake.

She hears the elevator doors down the hallway open and instinctively turns to investigate.

He looks slightly lost, turning his head left and right, before his eyes land on the large directory in front of him. The suit he wears looks like he’s worn it for every special event since he was sixteen. He squints his eyes, scratching his ear, before running his fingers through his slightly unruly, brown hair until his hand ends up curled around the back of his neck. He sighs in resignation, then turns his head in her direction, a shy and nervous smile playing on his lips.

“Umm. Sorry. Do you… Would you… umm… You wouldn’t happen to know where court room 314 is?”

She’s surprised to hear a Scottish accent, even more surprised to notice how it makes her smile.

“Umm. Yes.” Jemma gestures with her hand at the door behind her. “That would be right here.”

His eyes widen in surprise and he chuckles embarrassed. “Oh. Well. Umm. Thank you.”

He tucks his hands in his pockets, grinning somewhat sheepishly, before walking down the hallway to where she’s standing. Jemma can’t help but notice his piercing blue eyes.

“You’re _not_ Mr. Hunter, correct?”

He raises his eyebrows, scoffing in surprise. “ _Me?_ God no!”

“Nor Mr. Hunter’s attorney?”

He shakes his head vigorously. “No. No. _Definitely_ not an attorney. I… I’m his character witness.”

“Oh,” Jemma exclaims surprised, throwing her empty to-go cup in the trash next to the wooden bench on which she’d placed her briefcase. She bends down to open her case and retrieves some of her documents, skimming them quickly. “Leopold James Fitz?”

She extends her hand and he accepts it politely.

“Yes. Umm. Yes, that’s me. Fitz. Just… just Fitz will do… please.”

“Oh?” Jemma squints, slightly confused. “Well. Sure. I suppose.”

Fitz stares at her in anticipation and Jemma suddenly realizes in shock that she has neglected to introduce herself. “Jemma Simmons. I’m Barbara Morse’s divorce attorney.”

He draws in a seemingly surprised breath. “Ah. Okay. Umm. Nice to meet you.”

She smiles, trying to ease his obvious nervousness. “Likewise.”

He looks around the hallway, noticeably uncomfortable. “So. Umm. Nobody else is here yet?”

“No. But—” Jemma checks her watch. “It’s still almost fifteen minutes until the judge will see us. So, no need to worry.”

Fitz pulls out one hand of his pocket and waves her off. “Nah. I… I’m not worried.”

He tucks his hand back and shrugs. “Honestly, I’d be surprised if Hunter showed up for something on time.”

He pauses, a deer-in-headlights look on his face. “That’s… that’s not a good thing to say as a character witness, is it now?” He furrows his brows, visibly panic-stricken. “Am I even allowed to do that? Talk about the case?”

Jemma can’t help but laugh. “Well, Mr. Hunter isn’t on trial. This isn’t really a ‘case’. It’s a divorce. And an amicable one at that. I think we’re _perfectly_ safe in the realm of small talk here.”

Fitz scoffs, his hand darting to the back of his neck, scratching it, looking at her through the corners of his eyes. “I… I’m not good at that either. Small talk. I—”

He stops when the elevator dings, and both turn their heads to see who has arrived.

A slightly balding, middle-aged man exists, briefcase in hand and heads straight down the corridor towards them, his hand extended. “Mr. Fitz. Good to see you again. I assume you read over the documents I sent you?”

Fitz shakes the attorney’s hand, bopping his head like a schoolboy being interrogated by his teacher. “Yes. Yes, I did. I… I’m as prepared as I can be, I suppose.”

“Excellent,” the attorney replies, releasing Fitz’s hand and stretching his out towards Jemma instead. “You must be Jemma Simmons. I’ve heard a lot about you at our firm. You’re quite the legend. I’m still new in town, so to speak, so never had the pleasure of meeting you. Frank Danniel.”

Jemma smiles politely at her fellow divorce attorney. “Nice to meet you as well, Mr. Danniel.”

Danniel places his briefcase on the bench next to the courtroom entrance and rubs his hands together vigorously. “Excellent. Now the only ones missing are—”

As if his words magically made it happen, the elevator dings again and all heads turn to wait for the new arrivals.

Jemma purses her lips in surprise when she notices the man’s arm curled around her client’s waist, but her head instantaneously turns in Fitz’s direction when he suddenly raises his index finger, letting it angrily dart in Barbara Morse’s and her companion’s direction.

“Oh, no! _No!_ Nononono _No!_ You’ve _got_ to be kidding me!”

The slender, scruffy-looking man raises both hands defensively. “Mate, I can explain,” he remarks in a strong Londoner accent.

Next to him, Mrs. Morse leans closer, muttering under her breath, “Told you we should have called him.”

“When would we have done that?” the man replies, shrugging in confusion.

Fitz balls his hands into fists, bringing them up to his eyes. He bends his knees, letting out a frustrated growl, before straightening up, pushing his hands onto his hips, and breathing heavily.

Slowly, it dawns on Jemma.

“Mr. Hunter?” Frank Danniel asks inquisitively, his eyebrows raised.

Mr. Hunter grins rather sheepishly at his attorney. “Yeah, the divorce is off.”

Jemma can’t help but notice that her own client is staring at the floor, a smile lingering on her lips.

Danniel exhales sharply, his mouth half-open, nodding ever so slightly. “Alright then.”

“I took time off work for this!” Fitz yells suddenly, staring at his two friends with wide-open eyes. “ _Unpaid_ time off work! And you… _you_ —”

“Well. It was a pleasure _almost_ going head-to-head with you,” Frank Danniel addresses Jemma, forcing her to shift her focus from her client’s husband’s upset friend to his divorce attorney instead.

“Come on, Fitz,” she overhears Mr. Hunter. “Admit it, you’re happy that you won’t have to choose between mommy and daddy.”

Danniel nods with his head in the direction of the courtroom doors. “Why don’t _I_ let the judge know that his schedule just opened up a little?”

“ _No!_ Right now I’m _so_ far from happy like you wouldn’t _believe_ ,” Jemma hears Fitz yell angrily and her head briefly darts in his direction before she turns back to smile politely at Danniel.

“If you wouldn’t mind, Mr. Danniel. I’d greatly appreciate it. And I’m sure we’ll have a chance to meet in the courtroom again some other time.”

“And did you just say ‘mommy and daddy’?” an almost breathless Fitz adds to his previous statement.

“Yeah, Hunter, not the best comparison.” Mrs. Morse places her hand on Mr. Hunter’s shoulder, squeezing it gently.

Jemma barely notices Danniel grabbing his briefcase and disappearing into the courtroom. She’s not quite sure why she doesn’t leave the quarreling parties to themselves. Somehow she feels like a potential mediator could become useful.

Angrily, Fitz points at Mrs. Morse. “ _You!_ You could have called me too, Bobbi!”

Mrs. Morse grimaces apologetically, tilting her head slightly. “Yeah, I’m sorry, Fitz! Really. It’s just that we were… celebrating.”

Fitz rolls his eyes, letting his head drop back in frustration, groaning in disgust.

“Hey.” Mrs. Morse takes a step towards him, stretching out her hand slightly, palm facing up. “Let’s make it up to you. Come with us to lunch to celebrate?”

Fitz gestures at himself with both hands. “I’m still trying to unsee the last time I saw you ‘celebrate’ getting back together.”

Jemma covers her mouth with her fist, trying to suppress an inappropriate chuckle.

Mr. Hunter pulls his mouth into a one-sided grin. “Well, I think she just meant lunch, mate.”

Fitz eyes just about double in size and his nostrils flare up. “Yes, I _know_ what she meant, Hunter. I… just… _No_! Not right now. Just—” He lets himself plop on the bench, waving them off. “Just give me time to process this.”

Mr. Hunter opens his mouth, but his wife gently grabs his wrist, speaking on their behalf instead. “I’m sorry, Fitz. Really. We should have called.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Fitz slowly looks up, sighing deeply, one corner of his mouth attempting to tick up into a smile. “I… I’ll call you later.”

Mrs. Morse smiles, mouthing a silent _thank you_ , before pulling her husband along towards the elevators.

“Hey!” Fitz suddenly calls after them, causing them to turn around in unison.

“Yeah?”

“Congrats! You two idiots truly deserve each other.”

The couple laughs out loud and Jemma can’t help but chuckle quietly as well.

Mr. Hunter lifts his hand as a farewell gestures. “I know, mate, I know.”

Jemma keeps her eyes on the elevator until she’s sure that the doors have closed and the couple has left. She turns back to where Fitz is sitting on the bench, his head hanging low, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“So. Are you okay?” she asks somewhat hesitantly.

He lifts his head in surprise, pointing at himself. “Me? Umm. Yeah. Sure.”

He exhales sharply, squinting his eyes. “Does this happen a lot?”

Jemma lets out a little laugh. “A _lot_? Gosh no. _Definitely_ not. But it _does_ happen and the few times it does, I think it’s sweet.” She sighs and sits down next to him, resting her hands in her lap. “I’d like to think that couples who decide last minute to paddle back might just be the ones to make it long-term.”

He scoffs, rubbing the palm of his hand with the thumb of the other. “Funny you say that. I… I’ve known those two since the first time they got together. It’s always been a rollercoaster with them. Twists and turns. A hell lot of screaming, but also a hell lot of laughs. Always thought they were meant to be. This was the first time they’d gone this far. Lawyers. Divorce papers. The whole spiel.” He shrugs, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees and staring absentmindedly at his hands. “Dunno.”

“Maybe this was the last push they needed to make it stick.”

He tilts his head and Jemma can’t help but notice how his blue eyes conjure a smile to her lips.

“Your word in their stubborn ears,” he remarks drily, causing Jemma to laugh out loud.

Her reaction appears to be infectious enough to elicit a brief chuckle from him before he draws in a slow breath and his expression grows serious again. His voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks. “Do you still believe in it? True love?”

He pauses, staring at her for a moment, before burying his face in his hands, mumbling into his palms, his voice muffled. “Ugh, God, I can’t believe I just asked you that.”

He turns his head back to face her. “I’m sorry. That was _so_ inappropriate and—”

Jemma can’t help but laugh at how unnecessarily embarrassed he is. “No. It’s quite alright.” She takes a deep breath to calm her giggling fit. “Believe me. You’re certainly not the first to ask a divorce lawyer if they believe in love. And who can blame you?”

She wrinkles her forehead, shrugging as she prepares her reply. “The statistics are certainly discouraging. But, _yes_ , I still believe in love and _lasting_ love more importantly. In a way, I’d like to think that if I ever found the right person then I’d be _better_ prepared than others. I’ve seen it all: the _ugly_ faces of divorce, the _beautiful_ faces of divorce, the _grave_ mistakes that can cause two people who’d wanted to spend their lives together to go separate ways, and the simple drifting apart where no one is really to blame.”

He scoffs, waving his index finger in her direction. “Yeah. That… that last one was my ex and I.” His eyes seem to wander aimlessly, looking everywhere but at Jemma. “We were together almost three years and it just… one day we both said that it wasn’t right anymore, not what we wanted and… I mean it was still sad but it was also right. Neither of us blamed the other. We just went separate ways and that was that. Two years later and I’m still convinced it was the right decision. I think she got married a few months ago, actually. Saw something on Facebook.”

He inhales as if in slow motion, exhales through his rounded lips equally slowly, his eyes becoming thoughtful and glassy. “But then I see people like Bobbi and Hunter, where it’s so clear to everyone that despite their mistakes and their fights and their stubbornness they belong together and you start to wonder if you’ll ever find something like that and—”

He tilts his head in her direction, letting out a single chuckle. “Why am I telling you this? I must sound like a bloody moron!” He drops his head back to face the floor, shaking it in disbelief, before bringing his hands up to rub his face roughly several times, groaning quietly.

Jemma can’t help but smile. “You really don’t. And I’ve always been told that I’m a _very_ good listener. I think it’s a good trait to have as a divorce lawyer.”

Once again, his head twists and a hint of a smile brightens the blue of his eyes. “Yeah. You… you’re definitely a good listener. And patient. _Very_ patient.” He sits up straight and turns his torso to look at her more directly. “Thanks for listening to me sulk. I… I’m really happy for them, just—”

“Tired of the back and forth. And the taking time off work.”

He nods, pointing at her. “Yeah. _That_. _Especially_ that.”

Jemma draws in a slow breath and pushes herself up to standing, tugging on her blazer to straighten it. She reaches for her briefcase and picks it up, holding it with both hands in front of her thighs. “Well. Now that this appointment got cancelled, freeing up my morning, I think I will head to my favorite coffee house around the corner and enjoy a lovely hot cup of tea and one of their amazing blueberry scones.”

He smiles. “That sounds nice. I think I’ll sit here for a couple more minutes, trying to figure out how Bobbi and Hunter will make up for what they’ve put me through.”

“Or you could join me,” Jemma hears herself say, far more confidently than she’d expected it to come out.

His eyebrows shoot up. “What now?”

Jemma shrugs nonchalantly. “Well, since you have the day off anyways and seemingly no other plans, I thought you could join me.”

He wrinkles his forehead. “For tea?”

“Or coffee. Whatever your preference is. Mrs. Morse will have to pay for this appointment anyways, so, I could invite you and then she’d practically already be making up a little bit for neglecting to call you.”

She’s pleased to see one corner of his mouth tick into a mischievous grin, mimicking the one on her own face.

“You… you’re offering to buy me tea?”

She lets go off her briefcase with one hand, pointing at him instead. “And a scone. Or muffin. Or other tasty treat.”

“Really?”

She shrugs. “Well, yes, unless you have strong objections to a woman asking you out on a date.”

His eyes widen, and he swallows hard. “On a… on a date.” He gestures back and forth between the two of them. “So, this _is_ asking me out on a date. I… I wasn’t sure.”

Jemma can’t help but smile optimistically. “Well? I’m still waiting for an answer.”

He lets out a quiet laugh. “Oh… umm… Yes… yes, that would be lovely.”

He slaps his thighs before pushing himself up to standing.

“Even if I pay?” Jemma asks, half-joking, half-serious.

He nods enthusiastically. “Yes, of course. Because—” He points at her. “Because if _you_ pay this time, then—” His index finger shifts from her to his own chest. “Then _I_ could ask you out on a _second_ date to reciprocate.”

“A second date?” Jemma raises her eyebrows, intrigued by his proposal.

“In theory.”

“I like theory,” she replies, noticing her lips twitch suggestively.

She feels a slight flutter in her stomach when he holds her gaze, and forces herself to clear her throat and regain her composure.

She gestures towards the elevators, putting on a polite smile. “Shall we?”

He waves his hand in the same direction. “Lead the way.”

They walk over to the elevator and Jemma pushes the button, her head instinctively rising to stare at the numbers above the door to discern when the lift might arrive.

“You know,” his voice grabs her attention, and she looks over, catching him with his hand curled around the back of his neck, rubbing it nervously. “I… I just thought that if… I mean… _if_ —strictly in theory—this date leads to anything more than that… then Hunter will _never_ let me live that down. He… he’ll hold it over my head _forever_ that his almost-divorce was what brought us together.”

Jemma can’t help but chuckle. “Well, _if_ —strictly hypothetically speaking of course—this date should lead to anything more than that, we could always keep it to ourselves for starters.”

He raises his eyebrows. “A secret affair?”

Jemma purses her lips suggestively. “Sounds rather scandalous, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” There’s a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, and his voice seems a bit huskier than before.

“Well, it _was_ strictly hypothetically speaking, of course.”

He clears his throat. “Of course.”

Both their heads turn in the direction of the elevator doors when the familiar ding rings out. The doors open slowly, and Jemma’s eyes widen in surprise, while her jaw drops to the floor.

“Oh my!” she exclaims while next to her, Fitz squints, his arm shooting up to cover his eyes.

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me! I _told_ you I’m still trying to unsee the last time. Seriously! This is a public place for crying out loud.”


End file.
